


I walked into the room dripping in gold, A wave of heads did turn, or so I've been told

by cutebutpsyco



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark, Cersei and Myrcella's relationship is fucked up, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Rival Families, Secret Santa, author!Myrcella, i don't know how to tag, implied lannincest, journalist!Robb, like a lot, masked party, sex at first meeting, singer!Theon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutebutpsyco/pseuds/cutebutpsyco
Summary: Myrcella’s emerald eyes couldn’t leave the young man in the further corner from the entrance. The guy was wearing a pitch black suit and a white and silver mask. Differently for the dark-haired man with whom he was speaking, though, his didn’t look like the one of the Phantom of the Opera, and that was good. Partly because the mask he was wearing just covered his eyes, playing with the definite line of his profile and didn’t hide his full lips, and partly because it reminded the one of the killer in Myrcella’s book. Which meant that the man took his time to read the thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wightjon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightjon/gifts).



> As always, I don't know what I'm doing with title, summary and tags, lol. I wrote this for @wightxmas on Tumblr who was my wonderful giftee for the asoiafrarepairs secret santa event. 
> 
> that said, nothing belongs to be, this is unbetad and the title is from "Crave you" by Flight Facilities.

The huge room was shining in the golden lights from the ceiling and all around the stairs, the soft and chic decorations that somebody placed around the Lannister Manor in King’s Landing did nothing but amplify the elegance of the place.   
Myrcella pushed herself on her tiptoes, trying to see if she could spot some of the people who were reaching the house through one of the high widows of the hallway; then she went back to looking at her reflexion in the full-length mirror.

Her golden curls were kept together in a complicated braid, her backless dress thigh against her slim body was the same colour of the little lights in the main hall. Everything, in her appearance, was studied to bring out her tanned complexion (it was useful having a best friend in Dorne), and her mesmerizing emerald doe eyes. She smiled, and, for the beat of an eye, the person who was looking back at her was her mother. Beautiful, fierce, strong. Everything Myrcella ever wanted to be. It wasn’t the first time she wondered if Cersei Lannister was proud of her. They had a weird relationship, always hed, especially after Myrcella went to Dorne during her last year of high school. 

Life took Myrcella far from her mother, with her own career as a writer and the scandal short after. There was a reason why Myrcella was the only Baratheon-Lannister person who was at Lannister Manor that night. 

“Here you are!” Arianne Martell’s voice reached her. Her manager and best friend was wearing and elegant cleavage bloody red dress and a blue butterfly-like mask. Myrcella owned to the heir of the Martell Industries her life and maybe that was the reason why Arianne convinced her to throw that party when the only thing the young Baratheon girl wanted to do was forgetting about the fact that probably nobody from her family was going to take part to the announcement of a movie inspired by her first book. Simply thinking about it made Myrcella wish to have a flute of champagne. “Sansa Stark is looking for you. I didn’t know you were friends.”

She instead took her own mask and wears it, trying not to look at Arianne. “We met when we were younger. I’ll reach her in a couple of minutes.” 

With those words, she walked back in her bedroom. She was mildly surprised and excited at the idea of see the people waiting for her in the hall. Knowing that Sansa Stark was there wasn’t a surprise at all, though. While ‘friends’ wasn’t the word Myrcella would have used to describe their relationship. They both were in the spotlight both because of their families and their jobs, and their paths crossed more often since Sansa started to work for the television. What surprised her, anyway, was that Sansa was looking for her. In the past years, they barely shared a cold greeting which was sad, in Myrcella’s opinion. 

The first time they met, it was because of their fathers. Ned and Robert were friends and Stark was Robert’s Vice-Minister which meant that the families used to spend a lot of time together. Which also meant that not-so-secret Myrcella’s first crush had been on one Robb Stark, but no, she wasn’t going to think about the guy, not once that her life seemed to be on the good track. 

She tried to hide whatever melancholy was rising in her eyes before walking in the hall which was still empty but for Sansa Stark unmistakable thanks to her flame-red hair.

Myrcella still had no idea of why the older of the Stark sisters wanted to speak with her, tough she smiled gently, letting the other know that there was no bad blood between them, despite their families foes. “I didn’t expect for any of you to show up there, tonight,” She said, and maybe, her undertone was slightly bitter, but one thing was being polite, the other forgetting about what Ned Stark told to the world. “But I’m happy that you are here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like my parents know,” Sansa’s smile was secret. Again, the young Baratheon had no idea of the reason why the other girl was there. They had been friends, but that moment belonged to a life before. “I just wanted to congratulate with you, and you know how much I love masked parties on the top of everything.”

The both of them laughed and spoke for a little bit more, until Arianne walked back inside the hall to announce that other guests had arrived. With a nod of her head and a rapid introduction, the blonde went back to her place in the huge balcony all around the main hall of Lannister Manor. 

**

Myrcella’s emerald eyes couldn’t leave the young man in the further corner from the entrance. The guy was wearing a pitch black suit and a white and silver mask. Differently for the dark-haired man with whom he was speaking, though, his didn’t look like the one of the Phantom of the Opera, and that was good. Partly because the mask he was wearing just covered his eyes, playing with the definite line of his profile and didn’t hide his full lips, and partly because it reminded the one of the killer in Myrcella’s book. Which meant that the man took his time to read the thing. 

But, of course, that wasn’t the reason why the girl couldn’t keep her eyes away from him. There was something charming in the way his hand wrapped around his flute stem and something magnetic in his baby blue eyes. The light was too dim for Myrcella to see something else, of the man, but she liked what she could spot and, maybe, it was too long since she met someone she liked, physically, at least. 

With another smile, Myrcella excused herself from the conversation she was having with Margaery Tyrell and one of her friends and moved down in the hall, where most of the people happened to be, pretending to reach for someone of the catering for another flute. It took a moment for her to feel a pair of eyes on her. When she rose her own, the sensation was gone and the mysterious man wasn’t any more in his corner.   
That destabilized Myrcella even because the other man was now with a girl. The party was crowded but not so much to make someone disappear between the other guests. 

“I think nobody introduced us, yet,” The man said, from somewhere just closer that Myrcella expected. He was wearing a soft smile, his bright eyes illuminated when he looked at her, handling to Myrcella one of the flutes he was holding. Myrcella took it, playing with the rim of the glass instead of sipping it. 

“I think the point of a masked party is to hide each other’s identities,” She said, thanking whatever god of which she recalled the name. Long time had passed since the last time Myrcella flirted with someone and the last thing she wanted to do was being a complete idiot.

“It’ll be extremely impolite to do not ask for your name, though,” Northern accent, baby blue eyes, soft smile, Myrcella had half an idea of who the man in front of her was. She took a long sip of champagne, hiding the smirk which she knew crossed her smile. 

“Will it be impolite to tell you a lie as well?” She asked, almost a whisper, gently leaning closer to the man in front of her. Myrcella knew she was going to regret that, in the morning, but, for now, she was just enjoying the fact of being anonymous in the middle of a crowd. Long time had passed since the last time she had that possibility or, maybe, being Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister’s daughter made her live constantly under the spotlight. 

The man whispered laugh brushed her hair softly and she felt a hand on her back, just behind her shoulder blades. For the beat of an eye, Myrcella found herself speechless, surprised by the extremely courteous gesture, then the man pushed a little bit her body against his, just what was necessary to whisper in her ear while pretending to dance to the soft music. A pair of couples already started to dance and moving around the huge main hall since the party started, while most of the other guests went for the buffet or the balcony. Myrcella didn’t mind dancing. She actually quite liked to, though she faked a huff anyway, letting the man moving her around. 

“I’m not going to stalk you,” He said. “But if you don’t want to tell me the truth, then none of us will be impolite because I asked and you won’t lie to me.”

Myrcella decided that she liked what the man said and slightly relaxed her back, letting him guide her while they were dancing. She had no idea for how long they danced, stopping every now and then to drink something, but she was unable to take off her eyes from the man and the thing seemed to be reciprocated, if she could dare. By the moment half of the guests left the house, she was more than sure of having discovered the man’s identity and if the Baratheon had to put her two cents on that, she was sure he also understood who she was. Not that she cared. 

And she definitely didn’t care when, while they were the only couple still standing on the dance floor, the man bent to kiss her. It was a soft kiss, lips brushing against lips, a tentative push but nothing else than that until Myrcella let her tongue to open the man’s lips, claiming his mouth while his hand moved imperceptibly down, the other disappearing between the girl’s golden curls. 

Myrcella smiled, into the kiss, and the moment they parted, she turned her backs, heading upstairs, her right hand holding now the man’s one. She pushed away the thought that she was going to regret that, the day after, but she couldn’t care less, not when the man smiled at her and pushed her against her soft mattress, lips again sealed with hers. 

**

Myrcella woke up at the shifting weight in her bed, and it required a minute to understand where she was. The first thing she noticed, was a red mop of curly hair and a toned and pale back and memories from the night before came back suddenly all together. She didn’t drink so much to forget what happened, though there was still something weird in the idea of having slept with a complete stranger. 

Trying not to let the man that she was awake, the young Baratheon tried to push her back a little bit away from the rumpled sheet and she noticed both her dress and a white and silver mask on the floor. 

“Good morning,” The man said, and goodbyes to every try she could give to avoid a very embarrassing conversation. Best way around: she had some random sex with the man on whom she had a crush when she was eight. The problem was that this was the worse option possible as well. Trying to push away her tiredness, she turned to look at the man and her jaw literally dropped in front of the one Robb Stark, naked as the say he was born and definitely handsome. He smiled, and fuck, such a bright smile should be illegal in both Westeros and Essos. And yes, maybe he was eight-year-old Myrcella’s crush, but this didn’t mean that she couldn’t appreciate pretty things, right?   
Which also meant that she didn’t know what to say and simply stared back at him, trying not to look too much embarrassed and not to look at all. Which was something hard, pun totally intended. 

“Ehm…” She let out. Great, that’s very Cersei Lannister’s daughter like. And yes, maybe she wasn’t her mother, but she should have taken something after her mother, but for the intelligence and the coldness, shouldn’t her? Well, apparently the ability to let her dignity intact after random encounters weren’t her thing. She took her mobile, ignoring the missed calls and texts from Arianne, her editor and the movie producer and tried to go back on the still naked Robb Stark problem. “I’ll order breakfast if you’re up for it.” 

Robb nodded, and Myrcella closed her eyes, giving him a couple of minutes to reach the bathroom before daring to look at the takeaway menu of her favourite coffee shop. Once she ordered, she stared at the bathroom closed door and Googled Robb. The results were mostly from his articles as a journalist and his social media, most of them strictly professional. His name was somewhere in the Lannisters’ scandal thing as well, but nothing that made her want to kick the man’s ass out of her house. Which, considering what that scandal was about, was definitely a conquest. Only when she heard that someone was at the door, she collected her things and asked for a house worker to bring the things in her room. If she could, once that Robb was gone, she wasn’t going to leave her bed.   
That place was safe from embarrassment, the world outside a little bit less. 

**

Robb Stark was long gone, after having left Myrcella his number, when email tune went off, flashing with a new message from Arianne. They were supposed to start the movie advertising the following week which meant that the blonde write didn’t expect for any news from her friend in the next couple of days. And sure as hell, the last thing she was waiting for was to see a photo of Robb Stark leaving her house.   
“EXPLAIN” was the message object and Myrcella just stared at the screen of her computer in dread for some minutes before calling the Martell girl.

“I didn’t even know he was at the party,” She said, first thing when her friend picked up. “I mean, how bad can it be?”

“You mother sued his father for public defamation level of bad, ‘Cella,” Arianne wasn’t the kind of person who loses their temperament easily. She was always charming and collected and the fact that was halfway yelling into Myrcella’s ear meant that it was a pretty high level of bad. “The last thing your entire family needs now is for you or your brothers to hang out with Ned Stark’s kids.”

“We didn’t hang out, he was at my party, as well as Sansa was and you didn’t have problems with her being around,” Again, Myrcella didn’t want to admit that they totally screwed and that maybe, only thinking about what was turning her cheeks a darker shade of red, her fingers playing with the little piece of paper on which Robb wrote his number. “What should I do?”

At the other side of the line, Arianne huffed. She wasn’t a lawyer, politics was more her field of expertise and despite her deep knowledge of the law because of her father, it was clear that she had no idea about which the next move could be. “Stay away from journalists. Both the ones who will ask answers and the ones who work for the Winterfell Times.” As in, don’t meet again with Robb Stark. 

Myrcella nodded, trying to ignore her raising headache and closed the call. She had work to do, and thinking about that was better than the mess that she caused. Though, every time she tried to go through her drafts and the emails waiting for an answer. Robb’s magnetic eyes opened their way in the blonde’s thoughts. 

After her fifth coffee and almost the entire morning spent looking at the blank page in front of her, the only thing she could think about was texting him. It wasn’t even because she wanted to speak with the guy; rationally, she knew that it had been nothing than a one-night-stand, thought there was something weird in the fact that he left her his number. And maybe it was just because he was her first crush, back in the day, but she couldn’t simply ignore that at all. 

Hey, She texted, pushing the sending button before she could double think about that. 

It didn’t take long for an answer from Robb. What surprised the girl was how easily spoke with Robb was, despite the initial embarrassment. It was like they had known each other for years, which wasn’t completely wrong, but, at the same time, they had never had that kind of confidence. And maybe it wasn’t the best thing to do, because of the scandal and what Arianne told her. And maybe she was being naive and Robb was trying to use her to invalidate whatever legal procedure Cersei intended against Ned — of which Myrcella knew nothing because, apparently, her mother didn’t value her important enough to tell her the truth, or maybe she thought she was still a child — but she really enjoyed speaking with him. 

Which was why she was having a hard time to keep her guilt under control. That guy was the son of a man who tried to push her and her brothers to make a DNA test only because of a stupid voice about her mother and Uncle Jaime. She should have hated him, but she couldn’t. She hated Ned Stark because he destroyed their family, in Myrcella’s opinion (he and Lyanna Stark, with whom Robert actually ran away), but Robb was a completely different person and she wasn’t saying that in light of a night of sex. 

She knew the guy, not as well as she’d like, but she knew him and heard Joffrey complain to him as well when both were in high school. He wasn’t a bad guy, and most certainly wasn’t using her, or, better, that was what Myrcella hoped for. 

She was still caught in her thoughts when a new text message lighted up her mobile. It was from Robb: My best friend plays tomorrow in KL, Sansa and I will be there, wanna join? 

It took a couple of seconds to Myrcella to understand who was the person Robb was speaking about. That and a rapid search on Google just to be sure that he was speaking about Theon Greyjoy. I don’t have a ticket. It was the stupidest of the excuses, though Myrcella wanted to know if that was a date, or if she had to pretend to refuse. She wasn’t even sure the entire thing could go well, considering everything. 

Be my plus one. Fuck, Arianne was going to kill her. And then her mother, and possibly even her grandpa if Tywin knew about that. Not that he gave a fuck about his grandchildren but for Joffrey, but still. 

See you there. 

**

An entire night blasting Theon Greyjoy’s music in her house what all was necessary for Myrcella to understand that it wasn’t her kind of music. Though, at the end of the man’s third record, she could, at least, sing by heart a couple of songs so she was half sure that she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself. 

The concert was held in the old Red Keep, which meant extremely close to her mother’s house, even if it was hardly possible that Cersei was somewhere in the West in that time of the year. Anyway, what really that meant was that Theon was famous enough to actually fill the room with his supporters. 

With the Red Keep destroyed almost one thousand years before, the entire place became one of the most characteristics of King’s Landing and one of the most glamorous nightclubs in the Capital. When the blonde girl arrived, the hill was already crowded with people queueing and waiting for their turn to enter and her shades almost automatically fell to cover her eyes. 

Someone would have called it occupational hazard because being born under the spotlights brought Myrcella and her brothers to never liked to be seen in public, though, this time, was even more important for people not to see with whom she was. That was the price of popularity, and she honestly had no idea how her mother could have craved that since she was even younger than Myrcella. There were a lot of things that the young Baratheon couldn’t understand about Cersei Lannister and that was just the icing on the cake, apparently. 

Trying not to be seen, she texted back to Robb and was half surprised when a black-windowed car reached her own. Sansa was driving, if she should make a bet from the flame red hair she could see. 

“Hey,” She said, letting the door open. “How does it come that we never see each other for years and then twice in a day?” 

“Should blame that on your brother, I think.” 

There was something, in Sansa’s eyes, when she said so, though Myrcella didn’t pay enough attention and just let the other girl drive her back to the entrance. The inside of the place was even more crowded than the outside. People were starting to take their seats around the central stage where the Iron Throne still stood and they were calling for Theon and the members of his band, filling the huge room with anticipation. Sansa, though, didn’t stop at the stalls and signalled Myrcella to follow her toward the backstage. 

“What…?”

“Theon is Robb’s best friend, do you really believe he would have given him some shitty ticket?” Sansa flashed her with a smile and in a beat of the eyes, a plastic backstage pass was hanging from her neck. Without any wit answer for the red-haired girl, Myrcella followed her. 

Despite not being the music she would have listened to on any other occasion, Myrcella had to admit that the concert was fun and seeing it from the backstage was even better. People didn’t have the tendencies to push and pull the others, there and the atmosphere was almost private. Honestly, the blonde girl had no idea how long had passed since she had a normal night like that. Maybe it was back to her high school last year when she was dating Trystane and the only concern she had was that her mother and father were speaking about divorce. Because since those papers get signed, the entirety of Myrcella’s life went south. 

“I wrote this song for my girlfriend,” Myrcella had no idea how long had passed when she heard Theon pronounce those words, but she could see Robb’s jaw tightened at the mention and Sansa’s face turned the same colour of her hair. “And I know someone will kill me, but bro, your sister’s hot, and you should really man up and kiss the girl.” 

And Myrcella knew that if Theon wasn’t on the stage Robb would have killed him, but, instead, he ran tentatively a hand in his hair and lowered his eyes on her, waiting for a confirmation. Once she nodded, Myrcella totally forgot to pay attention to the song. 

The only thing that she knew was that, apparently, that was the last song, because Theon entered the backstage and looked at them before asking, teasingly: “Did he kiss her?” 

“Sure, for all the song. That’s why he didn’t drag you away from the mic,” Sansa joked, pushing her own lips against Theon’s and muffling his “It was about time!”   
What he said, looking at Myrcella, instead, was: “After every concert, we all go celebrate. I know that’s your Pyke so, if you want to join, we can go to my hotel room.”

Myrcella didn’t dare to ask about the Pyke part of his sentence. She knew very few about the one Theon Greyjoy. Of course, she knew where he was born, but she also knew that he grew up with the Starks as a foster child and that Eddard Stark and his father had a lot of problems in the past. Apparently, Ned Stark had a lot of problems with everyone, though it was comforting to know that his children seemed to be different. She wasn’t totally sure about Robb not being interested just in information to use against his mother, but Sansa seemed extremely happy by Theon’s side and Myrcella wanted to have faith. 

“Only if you don’t mind,” She answered. 

**

“So, how does your sister happen to date Theon Greyjoy?” Myrcella asked; she was on the wrong side of tipsy, half laying on one of the sofas in Theon’s suite. Most of the people he invited over were either already gone or too trashed to paying attention to their surrounding. Sansa was sleeping, her head in Theon’s lap while he was typing something on his computer. Everything reminded Myrcella of a University after party. 

“They danced around each other for a while,” Robb said, drinking from his glass. “Then, I don’t even know, my sister started to date some crazy guy, Sansa told me nothing, and Theon isn’t the sharing guy…”

Myrcella was too drunk to realize that, very likely, Robb was speaking about Joffrey. Not that she was going to point out that he wasn’t crazy, or that he was her brother if this could help. She still kept memories of the bruises on Tommen’s skin. That was a thought that called another beer. “I think it had been in the air since ages, though. My father isn’t exactly happy, but, well, I think he wouldn’t be proud of me either, now.”

“I’m sorry,” Myrcella whispered. And Robb turned to look at her, surprise painted all over his baby blue eyes. “For your father, I guess I am the reason why he wouldn’t be proud of you. Like, it’s not we are dating but - this,” She moved her hand weirdly between the two of them. 

“I’d like to date you if you are up for it. Keeping it secret and the likes or, really, whatever. I know we didn’t exactly start things in a conventional way, and that now I’m too drunk to explain myself, but I’d like to,” He smiled again, that smile that made Myrcella wish to be able to kiss him for the next ten years or so. Robb was a handsome man, but he was also cute and funny, and the kind of person for which is difficult not to fall. 

“I’d like it, too,” She admitted, feeling her cheeks heating up. 

**

With the meetings for the movie going on, Myrcella didn’t have a lot of time to actually meet Robb. Which was good, considering that the entire “keep our relationship silent” meant that she couldn’t tell about it neither to Arianne. (Or better, Robb said that she could tell her best friend, if not that said best friend forbidden her to text Robb in the first place to avoid the Jack-in-the-box kind of scandal.) But also sucked because working side by side with the Martells meant being around Trystane, again. 

And there was just a number of flirt that she can bear in 24 hours without freaking out. Trystane wasn’t a bad guy; they simply didn’t work together and he couldn’t realize it. He didn’t when they were a couple and didn’t during the reading of the script. Which, on a side note, was an actual mess. 

If she had to go through that one more time again and explain that they couldn’t change the main plot to force a romantic subplot when the point of her book was that the female heroine doesn’t need a romantic interest at all she was going to make a scene and leave. How difficult it possible was? 

“Again, if you make her fall in love at the end of the movie, don’t put my fucking name on it,” She said, and she could hear Oberyn Martell laughing and give her thumbs up. 

“Thank you, ‘Cella. I’ve tried to explain this to the creative team for ages. Now, can we remove that dumb part and move on?” Everyone nodded, probably because Oberyn Martell was the one who paid for the movie in the first place. Set that out, Myrcella sunk with her back in her seat and tuned the rest of the meeting out. 

It required another four hours or so for everything to sort out and by the time they finally set the filming timetable, Myrcella was so exhausted that she just wanted to go straight in her hotel room and sleep for the next twenty hours or so. 

And that was her plan until she walked out of the conference room to find herself face to face with her boyfriend. And a very disappointed looking Arianne. She tried not to look too happy in seeing her boyfriend there, and she knew she failed it the moment the Martell’s glance turned even more murderous. 

Every tiredness left her body and her brain rushed to find some kind of justification. What she surprised Myrcella, though, was that Arianne just gave her a tired smile and said: “I knew it. Do whatever you want, but if this goes public, you will have to explain this,” She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “I’m going to sit in a corner and smile at you trying to defend your relationship against your parents.”

“Already been there,” Robb answered, and his smile was similar to Arianne’s. “The choice is yours, ‘Cella.”

“For you? For this?” She asked, pushing her lips against the guys’. “Today and forever.”


	2. And it becomes public

**Author's Note:**

> If you kudo and/or comment I'll love you forever!  
> want to say hello or make some request? come on tumblr.


End file.
